Chapter 13
Neala felt as though she was swimming through fog as she tried to gather her thoughts.
She stood with her hand on the door, feeling the weight of what was coming vibrating through her whole body.
She had a new understanding of the world now; everything had changed beyond what she had ever imagined in just a few short moments.
It wasn't a case of if she should act, not now—all that was left was to decide what to do.
Her mind drifted to her Sparrow sisters, Catriona and Iona, the two young trainees who had bonded to her.
What would they do if they knew the full truth?
She smiled faintly, imagining their excitement and astonishment, but her smile faltered as her thoughts naturally drifted to Laura.
Laura, who had known all along. It was too hard to wrap her head around, and it was going to be a long, serious conversation between them when this was all over.
But it was a long way from over, Neala reminded herself firmly. She could not allow herself to get lost in her thoughts. So what did she do now?
Officially, her mission had not changed.
She had been sent here as a spy to gather information, and that information was imperative to the rebellion's success.
To Cailean's success, it had been revealed.
The proper thing to do based on the protocol that had been pressed into her mind from childhood was to continue her mission no matter what.
Her cover was still intact, and so, it seemed, was Elspeth's.
She should report what had happened with Morag to the older Sparrow, and trust that the others would act, and otherwise just continue to serve as Abby, the maid.
After all, she had now developed a strange bond with the prince, of all people.
Wouldn't it be foolish to jeopardize the mission now, when she was in such an impossibly strong position?
But… but Morag and Ann were in the dungeons now.
Even if she got word to Elspeth, how long would it be before the Sparrows were informed, and how long before they could act?
Ann was sick, and regardless of what Morag wanted to assure Neala, it was obvious that the young woman was in immediate danger.
And Morag… well, she was not very old, but she was too old to be living in such conditions.
Her loss would be an unimaginable one to the Sparrows, both on a tactical level and on a personal one.
So, did Neala abandon her mission now and focus only on saving her captured allies?
The Sparrows were her family—could she leave them behind, even for a mission?
And then again… they weren't her only family.
She knew that now. The thought made her heart race and her throat feel dry.
Cailean was alive. Cailean had been alive for twenty years, and she had not known.
Part of her was still hurt and angry that it had been kept from her, even though she was trying to understand, but an even stronger part was simply jubilant.
All she had dreamed of for her whole life was the chance to speak to her mother or father or siblings.
She'd been too young to do so before they were taken from her, and until just now, she'd thought she'd lost her chance forever.
And not only that, but Morag had told her to go to Cailean.
Surely, that counted as new orders, overriding her previous mission?
Or was that simply the bargaining thoughts of a girl who hoped?
There were too many paths, too many choices, and too many differences from the world that she thought she had known.
It made her head spin, and as she stood there holding the door, a tiny part of her wondered what it would be like if she just stayed here.
If she just let someone else make the decisions, would it really be so bad?
Yes, it would, she answered herself, the firm resolve returning after the tiny moment of weakness. She may not be sure about the right path, but she knew that whichever one she took, it must be her path. She'd spent enough time here thinking in circles.
Pushing open the door, taking a deep breath, Neala stepped out into the corridor.
Whatever she did next, she needed to find and speak to Elspeth.
There was a small squeeze of something painful in her stomach as she thought of the older Sparrow and understood that Elspeth had known about Cailean the entire time.
But she shook her head and pushed past it.
There would be time for recriminations and explanations later.
Now, she had too many important tasks ahead of her.
The hallways of Blackthorn Castle seemed strangely empty as Neala paced through them, forcing herself to act normally and walk with the demure but purposeful pace of a servant, rather than rushing ahead as her heart screamed at her to do.
She could not allow herself to break character and ruin everything she had built now, even if she didn't know what exactly she was going to do next.
As Neala passed an open window, though, the odd echoing silence was punctured by a babble of rising voices from outside.
Curious, she took a step to the side and peered out of the window, which looked over the central courtyard of the keep.
To her surprise, she saw that it was packed with people, horses, and what looked like wagons filled with travel supplies.
It seemed like most of the residents of the castle were gathered, and the king and prince were there in the center of it all, recognizable even from so far above.
Neala strained her ears, but she was too high up to make out anything distinct from the cacophony of voices coming from below.
Though her instinct told her that what was happening down there was important, she reluctantly dragged herself away from the scene, firmly telling herself that she could not add to the confusion in her mind already until she'd sorted out all of the strings that had already frayed.
She pushed herself to keep moving, heading for the stairways that would take her down to the kitchen, trying not to think of the small alternative path that would return her to the dungeons and to Morag's side.
She'd only managed to get down a few steps, though, when she almost collided with a person who was hurrying up them two at a time.
"Oh!" Neala exclaimed. "Sorry, I was just—oh, Elspeth!"
Elspeth had grabbed Neala's arms to steady her before she tripped and fell, and as they looked at each other, Neala saw a wildness in the calm cook's eyes that she had never seen there before. "Oh! Lass! Thank God, I thought ye'd gone missin' entirely. Come on, we need tae be outside now."
Neala frowned. "I was comin' tae find ye. I have things tae tell ye, things—"
"Later. We dinnae have time," Elspeth insisted. She let go of Neala's arms, but it was only to grab her hand and pull her down the stairs, hurrying her along. "They're in the courtyard now. We cannae miss it."
"What's goin' on?" Neala asked immediately, allowing her entire focus to settle on the current moment. Despite all the confusion in her mind, it was clear based on Elspeth's reaction that whatever was happening now had to take her full priority. "Why is everyone outside?"
"If ye kent that, what were ye doin' wanderin' about in here?" Elspeth demanded impatiently.
Neala didn't bother answering or trying to explain.
Instead, the two of them hurried silently down the rest of the stairs and through the still-busy kitchens, pushing through the busy cooks and passed the preparation of meals until they reached the small side door that led to the outside.
They burst out into the open air, and they followed the wall around again until they reached the archway that led through to the main courtyard.
As they entered the courtyard, Neala was instantly engulfed in a bubble of sensation.
The sound of voices engaged in loud, overlapping conversations was deafening, and the sheer mass of bodies crammed into the small space triggered her defensive instincts.
Her heightened senses could taste the tension in the air, and her fingers instinctively reached for the small knife she kept hidden at her side at all times.
Elspeth tugged at her hand, and the two of them began pushing through the crowd, unnoticed by the distracted gathered people, forcing their way through until they were near the center.
They had erected a small platform around which everyone was gathered, and at the foot of it were gathered many men, some of whom Neala recognized as the most fearsome of the warriors that Edric Ashkirk had cultivated.
The king and the prince themselves were there, as Neala had noticed from above, talking in low voices at the side of the platform. It was impossible to overhear them from their position, but as Neala tried to get closer, Elspeth held her back.
"Wait," the other Sparrow whispered. She nodded toward the far end of the courtyard where the horses and the travel supplies waited, and Neala realized that something very, very important was about to happen. She went still, her heart hammering in her ears, almost drowning out the crowd.
A few moments later, the False King himself stepped up onto the platform.
He did not speak, simply casting his gaze over the gathered people.
Even Neala found herself shrinking back under that stare, and as his eyes moved, a deathly quiet fell over the crowd in a ripple.
His sheer commandeering presence was enough, and the thought made Neala shiver.
This was not a man to be underestimated, and not for the first time, she worried that she was in over her head.